Hi, guys! Here's the next chapter. I can't thank you readers enough for all the love! Seeing these stories getting read always makes my day. Shoutout to ladylace616! Thanks for the reviews.

(x)

Detective Harvey Bullock walked into the precinct to see Captain Barnes waiting by his desk. He kept his head down as he bulled forward. He'd gotten off work at 4 a.m. that morning and was back on schedule at seven at night.

On paper anyway. His watch told him that it was ten minutes to eight.

He drank scotch for breakfast that morning and had forgotten to set his alarm. Or slept through it. He couldn't say for sure. His head felt like someone was playing bongos inside his skull and the Rolaids he choked down had yet to put out the brushfire in his ribcage.

Barnes sent him a familiar look of raw irritation from where he stood. Harvey's stomach sank. Further evidence that their dicey professional relationship was far from improving.

Barnes sang in the key of sarcasm. "Detective Bullock, so nice of you to join us."

He decided not to share with the Captain that the damn rooster didn't crow or that the lights they had on in the precinct were way too bright again. He also didn't deadpan, So am I fired yet?

Barnes tossed down a folder that slapped onto his desk. "Another murder. Same weapon. Same victim. Same 'unsolved' status."

They hadn't had an unsolved homicide case since Barnes had become Captain, which was something he liked to point out loudly and often. Which also gave him one more reason to bust Harvey's chops.

Harvey growled to himself as he broke open the folder and lifted it to his eyes. He stared down upon glossy graphic photographs that looked like stills from an R rated slasher flick. If Madeline was right, their deeply closeted serial killer just kicked off his training wheels. With a fresh new butcher's knife and a bad case of bloodlust, he was coming into his own. He said what he always said to get Barnes off his back. "I'm on it, Cap."

"You're on it?" he echoed. "Every time I look over here, you're on your ass on the phone. I had no idea serial killers could be arrested by calling collect."

"It's legwork. I don't like it either but it's gotta get done." He decided it wasn't exactly a full-fledged lie, just one of those omission-types. "The minute you find one lead it goes to another. It sneaks up on you." He said before he could think to stop himself, "They're like pringles."

Barnes narrowed his eyes at him intensely. "Yeah, well, while you're over here taking a snack break, I've got a panicked mayor and reporters beating down my door."

Across the way, Harvey saw Madeline glance at them over her shoulder. She caught the look on his face. Then she blinked those big brown eyes of hers and headed toward him.

Great. Mother Hen activated.

Barnes continued in his tirade, "Catch this clown. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Today."

Right. He glanced quickly down at his Timex. Four hours to catch a serial killer. Because that was grounded in reality. No pressure.

Madeline powered up to them and said loudly, "Captain Barnes." He turned to her, and she offered him a manilla folder. "You'll want to keep this close by when I.A. rolls through."

Barnes slipped on his half-moon reading glasses and accepted the folder. He said distractedly, "How many times I gotta tell you to call me Nathaniel?" He flipped through the pages. "Hot off the press?"

She said, "I took it out of the oven as soon as the timer went off."

It earned her a rare smile. He tapped her shoulder lightly with the file. "Thanks for this." His grimace returned as he looked back at Harvey. "Get back out in the streets. An expert tip: Suspects are most often found -outside- the precinct."

Barnes left his desk area, causing Harvey to harrumph to himself as he slumped down in his chair.

Madeline stood by his desk. The air between them grew electric, just waiting to be neutralized with swift sarcasm.

She sang at him in a low voice, "You're gonna get caught…"

There it was. Harvey already knew using his official position on a personal investigation was grounds for reprimand or removal. It didn't get any more personal than Jim going from being his partner to fresh meat in the slammer. But just because Madeline happened to be right about that didn't mean he had to encourage further rubbernecking.

He snapped back at her. "Don't be a pest. Open your eyes, sweetheart. I'm in work mode."

"Too bad Barnes can't tell."

"You mean 'Nathaniel?'"

She ignored the comment and breathed out a lilting sigh. "If you're overwhelmed by your demanding job responsibilities, you could, you know, delegate all this to someone who has her own office. Someone who could make a couple calls behind closed doors."

"We're not doin' this dance. I already told you. This ain't on your to-do list."

Madeline let it drift and didn't press him, which made him wonder how much she knew or guessed about all the bureaucratic red tape blocking his every move.

She changed the subject by nodding over to Barnes' office. "He's got a bug up his ass about you."

"He's got a whole damn ant farm up there."

She snorted at the image. "That's a lotta Haterade he's sending your way."

She didn't even know the half of it. It was like new stepdad levels of hate up in his precinct.

She postulated, "You piss him off?"

What's that, Cap? I can't hear you. You're breaking up. Right before he shut down the radio and took a joyride with Gordon and Barbara Kean. He sent her a, "Maybe."

"You need to do some damage control. It's time to make with that famous Harvey Bullock sweet talk."

"On full blast?"

"Well… we don't want him disrobing."

Harvey smirked up at her. "Looks to me like you're already on top of that whole situation."

Her left eyebrow arched. "I am?"

"You am."

She sent a stare of consideration over to the Captain's office. "Meh. I wouldn't jump through any hoops." She suddenly squinted. "Though he does have that mean dad thing goin' for him."

Harvey's face fell and his eyes widened.

At his sudden silence, Madeline looked over. "I'm kidding," she all but shouted. "I'm kidding. Jesus…"

He cut back. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

Some fresh realization pushed up her eyebrows. "Nevermind," she said with a sigh. "I just figured out that this has nothing to do with me. Let me know when the two of you decide to put the ruler and your knobs away, okay?"

Harvey went to say something lurid about he'd need something a little longer than a ruler to do the measuring. If she remembered, and he knew she did. … When howling, whistling, and light applause kicked up and echoed throughout the floor of the GCPD.

Detective Alvarez clumped loudly on a pair of industrial strength high heels, dressed in a strapless pink taffeta dress with a high slit up the side. He had a full dark wig of hair, big hoop earrings, and a look of absolute disgust in place. Che Guevara lives, shaves off the mustache, and gets a bad perm. Slap a bow on him and put on a price tag.

And the crowd went wild.

"Oooo, foxy lady!"

"Work it, cupcake!"

"Have mercy!"

"Screw the gym, sweetheart! I'll give you a workout!"

One of the female officers slipped a fiver down his low neckline, and Alvarez flinched and cursed as he passed by Harvey's desk.

Harvey joined in and raised his voice to catcall level. "Let me be your fantasy, baby!"

Alvarez swerved around and almost lost his balance on his stilts. "Don't talk to me, douchebag! You're dead to me!"

Madeline wore a full grin as she called after him. "I have that same dress, but you wear it better!"

He sent her a furious glare and pointed at her. "And you don't get to talk! This is all your fault." He threw up his hand. "You put ideas in the words and all get people thinking."

"Blame society," she shot back. "It has us conditioned to see feminine sexuality as currency."

Alvarez rolled his eyes and stomped his heels away, looking less like a dainty tender flower and much more like Godzilla on a rampage through Japan.

Harvey shook his head. "It's like they say. Life's rough in the streets." He nodded to her. "He's right though. This is all your fault."

Madeline shrugged. "Sorry for disrupting an entire police culture built around your dicks."

"No, you're not," Harvey sent back.

At that moment, a familiar face popped into his line of vision. Jeannie from I.A. stepped up to his desk, dressed in a lovely short skirt that showed off her gams, big, gorgeous things if he did say so himself. Harvey raised his eyebrows in greeting. "Hey there, hot stuff." He sent her a sly grin. "I didn't know Scarlett Johansson lived in Gotham."

It got a loud, resounding laugh. She neared him. "When I'm done filming, I'll give you a call."

"Why wait 'til then?"

Jeannie traced her finger down his shoulder. "I'm goin' out with the girls tonight. Read: No boys allowed."

"Aw, c'mon, let me tag along. I'll just watch. I promise I'll be real quiet."

That got him another loud, tittering laugh.

He heard the familiar sound of Madeline's heels clip-clopping away from him. He glanced over to see her already halfway back to her office.

Harvey turned his full attention back to Jeannie. "Mmm, I like that skirt you're rockin'."

"It's not a skirt. It's a sarong."

"It's s'wrong it's right."

Jeannie sent him a wicked glance. before saying, "Call me when you get lonely." She traipsed away and left to go enjoy her girls' night on the town.

Harvey happily watched her ass swing back and forth underneath her thin s'wrong until she left the building. Then he snuck a glance up to Madeline's office. He cackled to himself.

Look at Little Miss Thing, walking away all salty potatoes. Looks like she missed her chance to jump on the Harvey Bullock train when it docked in her station. Sad story. Choo choo.

He stood up, grabbing up his leather jacket and hat. All right, he'd better run after Mistress Alvarez, make sure she didn't blow cover while working her corner. Maybe that'd make it look like he was actually doing some work around here.

(x)

Every now and then Lee was overwhelmed by the desire to step into the center of the GCPD, stand on top of a desk, and shout at the top of her lungs that she was not a widow. Pity and awkward silence flooded her every interaction. She'd gotten one sympathy card from a well-meaning officer, and one of the stenographers had baked her a casserole. While their intentions were in the right place, when she saw the gifts sitting there in her office, her heart sank.

The last time she checked, Jim hadn't died. He was just in prison.

So when Lee walked into the lab and saw the fresh bouquet of white roses, her first instinct was to chuck them right out the window.

Muttering to herself about if there'd been a funeral she hadn't been invited, Lee snatched the small white envelope from off the vase and took out the letter inside.

Her breath caught in her throat as she stared down upon handwriting she knew all too well.

Jim's handwriting.

I love you.

Don't give up.

Her hand flew to cover her lips. Sudden tears welled up, blurring her vision. She barely pulled it together to close and lock the door, before a sob broke out of her.

She brushed away her tears and held the note up to her eyeline. She read the words again and again.

Then, standing alone in the M.E. lab, she rested her hand against the swell of her stomach. For the first time in days, she smiled.